For Once
by ElusiveSanity
Summary: What if John chose not to break Sarah out of jail in Born to Run? Starts at the last part of the "bed" scene in BtR and goes AU from there. NOT post-BtR. Jameron! NOTE:**This story is entirely unrelated to my other series**
1. Prologue: For Once

**Hello! Thanks for stopping by. This is a new story by yours truly. It starts right at the end of the "bed" scene in Born to Run and goes AU from there. This is NOT a post-BtR story, nor is it just a rewriting of that whole scene/episode. This story will also be continued...**

**Please note, that I am not abandoning my fans or my other current story, Be Not Afraid of Greatness. This little baby was just SCREAMING to get out, so I had to write it. I am going to update BNAG next, and will finish that while I write this. I'm a teacher, and summer is coming = lots of writing time! **

**On a bigger note, this story is COMPLETELY UNRELATED to my other series, (starting with _Irony, thy Name is Cameron_, and continuing with _That Which We Call Fate_ and _Be Not Afraid of Greatness_.) **

**I do hope you find this just as enjoyable, but there is a slightly different tone to it that I've been quite eager to share with you all for a while. Don't worry... THIS IS A JAMERON FIC! Please review, and let me know what you think so far. Now, on to the show...  
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><p><strong>PROLOGUE...<strong>

"John? It's time to go."

John Connor froze, and felt his heart stop momentarily in his chest. It rebounded at double the speed as he realized what he'd been doing.

_Oh God, I almost kissed her! Oh God… and she knows. She's looking at me like that. She knows. _

Attempting not to blush, and doing his best to keep his eyes looking anywhere except her bare chest, he carefully pulled his hand out of his cyborg protector's chest cavity. Trying not to get her synthetic blood all over the motel bedding, he awkwardly climbed off her and headed straight for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a loud click.

He scrubbed his hands with soap without paying much attention to what he was doing. His mind was racing with a million things at once, and when he stuck his hands under the steaming water, he let out a yelp at the instant scalding they received.

The door swung open and Cameron stood in the doorway, apparently having had time to replace her black bra, but still with the open gash right under her rib cage. She took one look at his red hands and immediate turned off the faucet. She turned the cold knob all the way on and took hold of his wrists gently, leading them under the now ice-cold running water.

The dramatic temperature change made John shiver and goose bumps to appear up his arms. At least, that's the excuse he had given himself for their appearance. As he let the cold water soothe the stinging in his hands, it took a long moment for him to realize what had just taken place.

He yanked his hands out of the water and stared at Cameron. "What are you doing in here?" he asked vehemently.

Confused by his sudden illogical reaction, Cameron pointed to the still running water. "I heard you yell. I thought perhaps you were in danger. I recognized the signs of scalding on your hands and reacted. I have extensive files on first aid and treating…"

John held up his red hand to stop her. "Whatever. Just… thank you. I'm fine now, okay? You don't have to come rushing into the bathroom. You know, the door… privacy…?" He motioned towards the door with a raised eyebrow, hoping she got the point.

She did. Without another word, she turned off the running water in the sink and left the room, shutting the door behind her a little louder than necessary, in John's opinion.

He sighed and looked down at his red hands. Now that they were out of the cold water, the sting of the burn was starting to come back, and he found himself wishing he hadn't pulled his hands away from hers…

_STOP THAT!_ He mentally berated himself. Suddenly wanting to kick something, he chose to slam the toilet seat lid down instead and sat down with a huff, burying his face in his hands and forgetting all about the stinging pain.

XXXXX

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><p>Cameron stood in front of the tarnished vanity mirror that sat adjacent to the bed as she carefully stitched up the incision in her abdomen. She didn't need many stitches, just a few to close the wound. She would not get infection, and her skin would heal faster than a human's would.<p>

She tied off the end of the thread and inspected her work before opening a gauze bandage from their first aid kit. She heard the shower in the bathroom turn on, and quite unnecessarily, her eyes tracked to the closed bathroom door.

John had been silent inside the room for seventeen minutes. At first she didn't quite understand his reaction, but upon analyzing her actions and his behavior, she realized that he might have been embarrassed by her intrusion. She had decided to apologize when he came out, but he never did. Now it seemed he wanted to take a shower, and based on past experience, she guessed it would be at least another fifteen minutes before he came out.

It gave her just enough time to do what she wanted to do. Finished with taping the bandage to her skin, she pulled on her shirt and sat down at the small table. She took the complimentary stationary with the motel's emblem printed on it that she found on the nightstand and tore off the top sheet of the pad. Writing on the table instead so as not to leave any trace of her words, she wrote John Connor a final letter.

XXXXX

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><p>John let the water cascade over his body, trying not to think about anything at all, but of course that was impossible. His mind kept toggling back and forth between breaking his mother out of prison, and having his hand wrist-deep in his cyborg's chest.<p>

His cyborg? Well, technically she _was_ his cyborg protector. Maybe even… his friend? Maybe. When it came to Cameron, John always had a difficult time figuring her out. She was just so… _different_ than the others. And she was way more advanced than the T-800 he had called Uncle Bob years ago. Sometimes, he would swear that she could actually _feel_ something.

Like tonight. He'd put money down that Ellison had said something to upset her. Having Sarah Connor as a mother, he knew a pissed off woman when he saw one.

And that line of thinking led to a thousand other questions. Why was he referring to her as a "woman"? She was a _machine_. She wasn't even a "she"! She just looked like a "she", didn't she?

John squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against the shower wall. It all made his head pound to think about, so he forced his train of thought to turn to breaking his mom out of jail.

Cameron would be doing most of it, of course. She said she'd be all right, assuming everything went as planned. They would drive by and pick up the priest, as he'd have to relay the message to Sarah first. There wouldn't be much of a warning time, but he had to let her know. If he just let Cameron break in without telling her, Sarah might suspect it's another machine coming for her. Which would probably lead to her managing to escape on her own, and everything being almost for nothing.

Almost. The possibility did tease its way through his brain, but Cameron shut it down fast. Sarah Connor could be elusive when she wanted to be; they might actually have a difficult time finding her themselves if they let her run.

He turned off the shower water and grabbed the too-small towel off the small shelf. Not really wanting to put on dirty underwear, but not particularly wanting to go commando either (especially when his jeans had a habit of sliding down too low), he grimaced as he pulled on his dirty boxers followed by the jeans that were growing a little stiff with grime. When he pulled his shirt over his head he realized just how bad his shirt smelled, and wondered why he had even bothered to shower in the first place. Feeling kind of sorry for Cameron having to sit in the same vehicle as him, he finally opened the bathroom door and found her standing watch at the window, quite obviously waiting for him. He sat on the edge of the bed and tugged his boots on, sans the dirty socks that were starting to make his feet itch.

"Are you ready?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question, but not feeling comfortable with the silence.

"Yes, I am ready," she responded, and waited for him to pull on his leather jacket before opening the door.

XXXXXX

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><p>"You understand the message, Father?" John asked seriously. He felt terrible for asking the man… no, forcing the man to go through with all of this. Surely if there was a God, he'd be going to hell for it.<p>

The priest nodded, trying to hide the fact that he was trembling. He knew what the girl in the back seat was, and it scared the hell out of him. "Yes," he said. "Are you sure about this, John? She was very adamant about you leaving."

When he didn't get a response from the young man, he hesitantly continued. "If I may say so… Mothers have a certain wisdom about them. It usually bodes well for us to follow their advice. It's why the Lord made it a commandment, after all."

John swallowed hard, and ignored the dread growing in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat and looked straight out the windshield, avoiding the man's stare. "Cameron will be right behind you," he answered.

The priest nodded, and without actually looking at her, asked, "How long?"

"Approximately twenty minutes, to ensure your arrival." Cameron answered. She was aware that Father Armando knew what she was, and that it terrified him. She kept her voice soft, and avoided making eye contact. She didn't need to frighten him any more than she could tell he already was.

He nodded once again and climbed out of the vehicle. Before shutting the door though, he briefly turned back around. Unexpectedly, he made the Sign of the Cross in front of John, and mumbled a prayer under his breath. "Dios te bendiga, mi hijo." And with that, he turned around and walked towards the entrance of the prison.

John watched as the man disappeared through the doors, and the uneasiness that had settled in his stomach rose to his throat. "You too, Father," he whispered, and gripped the steering wheel tight.

He couldn't figure out what it was. The feeling of dread was overwhelming to the point he was starting to sweat. They'd gone over the plan several times. It was essentially "flawless" as Cameron had reassured him each time. Knowing that still didn't help, though.

The silence in the truck didn't help either. Cameron wasn't much of a conversationalist, and she seemed oblivious to the tension in the air as she sat stiffly and calmly in the back seat, constantly scanning their surroundings for anyone or anything that might hinder their plan.

"Time's up," she said. Had it really been fifteen minutes already?

"You know what to do. If we're not out in twenty minutes, you leave without us." He heard the clicking of her checking the shotgun, but didn't turn around. Instead he looked up in the rear view mirror, and their eyes met.

His heart picked up speed as she held his gaze, waiting for him to acknowledge her orders. It was all he could do to give her a silent nod.

Without another word, she opened the door. He felt the truck shake under him as she closed the door, and heard her footsteps on the pavement as she walked away.

One. Two. Three.

"Wait!"

It was a hoarse croak, little louder than a whisper, but it was enough. She heard him, as if she was waiting for it, and stopped in place.

XXXXX

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><p>A half an hour had gone by, and the priest heard the guard down the hall walking back to Sarah Connor's cell. Time was up.<p>

"Maybe something happened?" he said, almost panicky.

Sarah stared straight ahead, her face an emotionless mask.

"We would have heard if it had," she said.

As the guard approached the door and unlocked it, Father Armando placed his hand on her shoulder. "Maybe… he decided to listen to his mother."

Sarah gave him a bitter smile and patted his hand. "For once, Father," she said, and listened as their footsteps trailed down the hall.

"For once…" she whispered to the emptiness. And for once, she let a single tear streak down her cheek.


	2. Chapter 1: I'll find a way

"_Wait!"_

_Cameron stopped in her tracks and turned around in question. John was staring at her with his mouth half open, an unreadable expression on his face. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. _

_He didn't say anything though, and after a long moment of silence, Cameron decided her best course of action. She walked around the truck to the driver's side and opened the door._

"_Move over," she commanded softly. She waited for John to unbuckle his seatbelt and wordlessly slide over to the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. She sat quietly for several minutes, giving John time to collect his thoughts. When he still didn't say anything, she reached over and touched the back of his hand lightly to get his attention. "John?"_

_The young man cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I just… I don't know. Something the Father said... I have this feeling in my gut that I don't like. I'm not sure if this is a good idea anymore." He sighed and let his eyes track up to hers. "I'm not sure of anything."_

"_We can come back another time," she said. _

_Deep down, he knew it was a lie; that this would probably be their only chance. Sarah would be transferred to a different facility eventually. But her words drifted over him and settled his racing thoughts. _

"_Yeah…. I just need a little time to figure things out. Think clearly."_

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><p>Cameron opened the motel door as quietly as she could, but it was a futile effort with the squeaky hinges. It didn't matter anyway, she could see even in the dark room that John was still awake. In fact, he was sitting right where she had left him, sitting on the bed up against the headboard. She set the duffel bags on the floor in front of the dresser and stared at him in silence. He didn't bother to even acknowledge her presence.<p>

Confused and uncertain, she slowly sat down next to him, mimicking his posture with her back against the headboard and legs stretched out in front of her. He didn't turn to look at her, but she could see he had closed his eyes.

"John?"

A soft sigh, and finally, he turned his head to gaze at her through the darkness. "Where did you go?"

Cameron's eyebrows furrowed into a look of both concern and confusion. "I told you. I snuck back to the house to retrieve clothing and whatever supplies I could."

"Oh," was his only reply.

He felt her hand lightly caress the inside of his arm, and he just barely kept himself from shivering. Testing his vitals, that's all she was doing. He pulled his arm away from her, but ran his hand through his hair as a cover to make it seem like less of an asshole move. He wasn't even in the mood to question himself as to why that really mattered. Not wanting to talk, and feeling slightly awkward just sitting there next to her in silence, he scooted down lower on the bed and rolled onto his side. He took a deep breath that turned into a yawn before closing his eyes once again.

Cameron took the hint for what it was and decided sleep was probably the best thing for him. She scanned the window, figuring out the best place to position herself to guard John. Deciding that the corner of the window would be her best option, she moved to set her feet on the floor slowly so as not to jar John too much.

"Please."

Cameron froze halfway off the bed and turned back around to stare inquisitively at his back.

He kept his eyes closed and took another shaky breath. "Don't leave me," he nearly whispered.

Cameron tilted her head in confusion. "I'm not leaving. I'm standing watch by the window."

"Stay," she heard him whisper again.

He must have been having a dream, she decided, because he wasn't making much sense to her. John always had dreams; he had a very active mind when he slept. He often talked in his sleep, especially when he was having a nightmare. Quite unsure of what she was supposed to do, she pulled her legs back up on the bed and this time, carefully laid down beside him.

XXXXXXX

John woke early with the morning sun streaming through the window. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as he yawned loudly and rolled onto his back to stretch his body.

"Good morning."

He blinked his eyes open to find Cameron standing at the end of the bed staring down at him.

"You weren't standing there watching me the whole night, were you?" he asked, knowing it was something weird she was likely to do.

"No. I had better things to do," she responded bluntly.

John sat up and looked around the small room. Everything was neat and tidy, and he could see she even had a fresh outfit set out for him on the small table. His eyes tracked back to her. She was dressed in fresh clothes, and from the look of it, fresh make-up. She was still staring at him though. "_It's probably 'cause I look like a disgusting hot mess,",_ he thought to himself. He cleared his throat and scratched his head awkwardly. "I'm gonna take a shower… are those my clean clothes?" he asked stupidly, nodding towards the table.

Cameron followed his gaze, as if to verify for herself they really were his clothes. "Yes, I chose your favorite t-shirt. I had nothing else to do," she explained quickly, knowing how he was sensitive about people helping him. Especially her.

"Thanks," he said simply, slightly surprising her with what seemed to be sincere gratitude.

"You're welcome."

He didn't take long in the shower, and he had to admit to himself that it was awesome putting on clean clothes this time, despite the awkward feeling he got when he thought about Cameron choosing his underwear. He shoved his dirty clothes in a trash bag, figuring no amount of laundry detergent would help them, and dropped it at the end of the bed. Cameron stood at the window in her usual position, watching innocent cars drive by going about their daily commute to work. She glanced behind her at John as if to confirm he was sufficiently preparing for departure before turning back to the window in silence.

"So… what's the plan for the day?"

He looked up from tying his boots when he didn't receive a response. She just kept staring out the window, and he wondered if she was even listening to him. "Cameron?"

She slowly turned her head at her name, but didn't quite look at him. "If you could sacrifice yourself for the chance to potentially save millions of people… would you?"

John froze, completely taken by surprise. "What? What the hell are you talking about?

"Please answer the question."

He blinked. She was actually being serious, and that kinda scared the shit out of him. It was probably best to just answer her question like she asked. He felt his heart beat pick up and took a deep breath as he considered his response.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I guess… it would have to depend on my chances."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes travelling to his face curiously.

"Well… you said a _chance_ to _potentially_ save millions of people. I guess I just need to know exactly how high those chances are."

Cameron tilted her head in thought. "I don't know. There's no way of knowing."

"Oh, well in that case then no."

"No?"

"No," he confirmed. "I wouldn't do it."

"Why not?" she asked.

John shrugged. "The world is going to shit anyway. I have the true and proven potential to save millions of people already. Sure it might suck, but in the end I lead the human race to victory, don't I? If I go and sacrifice myself, I may not end up saving anybody."

"Or you may end up saving even more."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But when it comes to the ultimate fate of humanity, I'd rather not leave it up to chance. I'll just stick to what we know for sure. Or think we know for sure, at least. I'm not still quite convinced of it."

"Oh, thank you for explaining," she said, before turning back to the window.

John stared at her for a long moment before walking over to stand next to her in front of the window. He gazed at the side of her face, watching the way her eyes flicked over the parking lot. His eyes traveled down to her hand, where he watched the barely perceptible twitching.

"So… you want to explain what that was all about?"

At this, Cameron tugged the curtains closed and turned around to face him. "I lied."

Instantly tensing at those words, John did his best to keep his face unreadable. He took a deep breath to force himself to calm down. "Okay. About what? To who?"

She kept eye contact with him, but her expression was one of contrition. "To Mr. Ellison. To you."

John watched her face carefully for any sign of deception, but not surprisingly he found none. "That question. 'Will you join us.' You know what it means."

"Yes," she said, recognizing his statement as an accusation rather than a question. "You knew."

John shrugged. "Yeah, I figured as much. At first I believed you. I had no reason not to. But then… I don't know. You acted like you got pissed off or something. And I realized something wasn't right."

Cameron's gaze wandered down to the floor once again. "I'm sorry, John. It was an unexpected development. I needed time to analyze the situation and potential risks."

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me afterwards."

"I'm telling you now." She glanced up to see anger written across his face, and realized her comment could have been taken as defiance. "There were certain risks involved. I couldn't explain to you then."

"Oh, but you can tell me now?"

"Yes."

"All right. Fine." John folded his arms across his chest. "Then explain."

Cameron paused for a long moment as if debating what or how to explain. "It was a question you asked in the future."

"Asked who? You?"

"No. I had already been reprogrammed. You asked the rogue machines."

The look on John's face told her he was thoroughly confused. Possibly even slightly horrified.

"In the future where I came from, there was a faction of rogue machines," she continued. "They were against Skynet, and the amount of destruction it was causing."

"Wait wait wait!" John held up his hand to stop her. "So you're saying there was like some sort of machine resistance?"

Cameron nodded. "You could call it that, yes."

"How? What… I mean, they would have had to have been self aware, wouldn't they? I thought Skynet kept a pretty tight leash on you all. I mean, until we reprogrammed you that is."

"To a certain degree, we are all self aware; some of us more than others. This faction began with a T-1001. It began by recruiting others among its own model, then expanded to other advanced models. Ones that had learned to think; to learn. Though I think they may have been reprogramming some as well. "

John sat back down on the bed slowly. He stared at the dirty carpet, not really seeing it at all. He was too busy processing this sudden load of information… and the implications.

"All right. So… that would mean Catherine Weaver is at least aware of this information."

"Or she _is_ metal," Cameron said quietly.

"Right," he said, still looking slightly dazed. "And she asked _you_ if you would join them?"

"It's unclear whether they want me to actually join them, or if it was simply a way to let me know that they are a part of the machine resistance faction. What _is_ clear is that they are on our side, one way or another. The machine in the basement the child spoke of… it must be part of the resistance. Perhaps they are building some sort of counter AI. It would not be the first time the possibility was considered."

"Or…" John stood up and began gathering his things on the small table. "Maybe they just want to lure you back to the dark side or something."

Cameron tucked the motel keycard in her back pocket. "I've considered it. When you asked them in the future, their answer was no. They weren't against you, but they weren't exactly with you. However, circumstances are different this time. I think we may be able to forge a partnership with them. That's why I've set up a meeting this morning with Catherine Weaver at Zeira Corp. I don't think they're our enemies. Hopefully, after this meeting, we can consider them friends. We'll need all the help we can get."

John eyed her up seriously. "Yeah well, I've learned not to trust friends. Friends can be just as dangerous as enemies. Even you, if you don't remember."

Rather than casting her eyes away like he expected, she met his gaze with equal intensity. "I won't let that happen again."

"How?"

She took a slow step towards him, never breaking eye contact. "I'll find a way."

He furrowed his eyebrows, not quite sure what she was getting at. "To… control it?"

"To kill myself."

John wasn't quite comfortable with his diminished personal space, but he kept his breathing regular as he held her gaze, a mere short step away from him.

"You've already done that," he said. He reached through the neck of his shirt and pulled out the pocket watch.

Cameron shook her head slightly. "With that you still have control."

"But you can't self destruct."

She took the watch from his hand and opened it up to reveal the red and black buttons inside. With one push, the explosive planted in her skull would detonate, and her chip would be destroyed. She lightly brushed her thumb over the buttons before snapping it shut and tucking it back under his shirt. "I'll find a way."

John watched as she turned away and opened the motel door.

"Come on, John. It's time to go."

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><p><strong>Thank you all for being patient and sticking around! I've been super busy, so it's hard to find time to write. I'm going to keep at it though, I promise! My next update will be for my story Be Not Afraid of Greatness. And as always, reviews of all sorts are welcomed... just know that I can bite back too ;)<strong>

**Also, the 'suicide' part of this chapter was taken from a deleted scene in season 2. It's a scene I thoroughly wish they would have kept in, so I incorporated it myself.  
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